


Ship of Fools

by Goddess_Under_The_Cupboard



Series: Ship of Fools [3]
Category: Political RPF - Russian 21st c.
Genre: Hanahaki AU, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Overly Protective Slava
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22996432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddess_Under_The_Cupboard/pseuds/Goddess_Under_The_Cupboard
Summary: The charade is up.He will protect the prime minister at any costPresidential aide position, be damned.
Relationships: Dmitry Medvedev/Vladimir Putin
Series: Ship of Fools [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650820
Comments: 9
Kudos: 7





	Ship of Fools

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This will be an accompaniment piece to Flower Rain's and Meet Me on the Equinox's Chapter 4. I already have Chapter 4 written for both stories actually, but I haven't written Chapter 2 and 3 of both fics. 
> 
> Also, the songs that inspired this came from KOTOKO despite the title coming from a Yuki Kajiura song. These songs came from one of my favourite mecha anime. You might think that the song choices are arbitrary, but it contains all the underlying feelings of the character that I want to convey. 
> 
> 1\. Re-Sublimity - KOTOKO  
> YT:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGvmvDymudA [press the CC button to get the English translation of the song]
> 
> 2\. Agony - KOTOKO  
> YT:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ujnZMSrCZT8  
> Lyrics: https://www.animelyrics.com/anime/kannazuki/knmagony.htm
> 
> 3\. Ship of Fools - Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles (Yuki Kajiura)  
> YT: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uQ-7oPeIg6E
> 
> 4\. I Talk To The Rain - Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles (Yuki Kajiura)  
> YT: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OisxV-pJwZE
> 
> 5\. Femme - Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles (Yuki Kajiura)  
> YT: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOM-CVbeYVg
> 
> When I listen to I Talk To The Rain, I got this image in mind that Dima and Vova are dancing, but they're just circling one another, but you can see the emotions on their faces. Dima has this resigned and melancholic air while Vova is merely a wall of indifference. Dima danced himself into a frenzy until beads of light started to surround him, and as both of them reached the middle and Vova is about to touch Dima's offered hand, he vanishes. 
> 
> I guess this is the emotion that I wanted to portray in my Hanahaki AU. Also, this song is perfect for writing any charge confrontations.

_He never expected that their charade would end this way._

It was a typical day, a peaceful morning; he handed his report on Ukraine to the president, and he left the president's office with his mind relatively at peace. He's looking forward to Dima dropping by at his office before his monthly meetings with Vladimir Vladimirovich. However, there seems to be an ominous cloud hanging on the Kremlin's corridors.

This atmosphere usually appears when or will there be a sacking, but then the government will be sacked next week. Numerous gazes followed Vladislav as he went back to his office. He's about to snap at them to cease their staring, but then he heard the hushed voices of Vladimir's silovikis exchanging the latest gossips.

"The report is quite damning. We've been telling Vladimir Vladimirovich that Dmitry Anatolyevich is a threat to our plans. I wonder if the president will finally eliminate him today. He and Vladislav Yuryevich had the gall to finance the opposition for a colour revolution."

He nearly stopped dead on his tracks. Vladimir Vladimirovich gobbled up kompromat without verifying whether is it the truth or not. Would you seek out the truth if it proves that your paranoia is correct? His heart raced on his chest as he shakily opened the door to his office and sat down on his chair to calm himself. He relished on making and obtaining kompromat in the past but now that Dima is one of its victims and might cause an earlier death than he expects he does not know what to do.

He stood up and went to the slightly ajar door to peek at it, Dima strolled passed his office, and the man seems occupied with his thoughts. He opened the door and grabbed the prime minister's arm and dragged him inside his office. Vladislav closes the door with a loud bang and slammed the prime minister on it who only looked at him in confusion. He knew that Vladimir Vladimirovich is watching this meeting between him and Dima; he leaned towards the prime minister to whisper in his ear.

"Listen carefully; the president is unto us, and he's thinking that we are planning to launch a revolution against him. I am discouraging you from going to today's meeting."

His words haven't sunk into Dima's mind yet; he wanted to shake the man out of his reverie for it is not the right time. He saw understanding flashing through those confused dull eyes and a wry smile appearing on the prime minister's lips.

"Dima?! Are you listening to me." he inquired, but the prime minister merely grabbed his shoulders and gently pushed him away.

"I have foreseen that this will happen. It's too late to cancel after all Vladimir probably knows that I am here. Whatever happens, I'll gladly take it. However, if something did happen, then you know what to do." Dima said chirpily, and he opened his iPad case and gingerly grabbed the white envelope within, and the man fished a small vial out of his packet and handed both items to him. "Here, migraine relief. You'll need it."

He knows that the vial's content is not medicine meant for migraine but hanahaki; he is perplexed. The white envelope contains the man's will; he places both items on his coat pocket. He often jokes that Dima is the Putin whisperer for he knew how to read the man correctly and those readings have never failed before. The prime minister patted him on the shoulder and started to open the door. He did not know what triggered it, but he heeds his impulse. His arms enveloped Dima into an embrace, conveying all the unsaid words that he cannot say.

 _I'm sorry  
_ _Don't go.  
_ _I failed you._

Dima reluctantly embraced him back.

 _It's fine  
_ _It is bound to happen_  
 _Let me go_

He hesitantly broke away, and Dima gave him one last smile as he went out of the room. He started pacing ceaselessly on his office, and he's quite sure that he'll burn a hole through the carpet. Should he have accompanied Dima instead? Explain to the president that the kompromat are fabrications that came from the ones that wanted the prime minister gone. Should they tell the truth?

_No. Telling the truth defeats the purpose of his task._

He and the prime minister are both fools that kept pushing a dilapidated ship. No matter how hard they tried to veer it away from the island of truth, it is the ship's inevitable destination. He knew that the president is not too brash, to try to eliminate someone inside the Kremlin. Terror squeezed at his heart; the president is a bit temperamental when it comes to the prime minister. He might have jeopardised Dima even more as he remembered his stunt in that Georgian restaurant.

_His incessant phone ringing snapped him out of his delirium._

He pulled it out of his pocket and saw that Dima is calling him. He slides the answer button to take the call.

"Dima?" he asks tentatively, but he can only hear the man's laboured breathing as he vomits.

He rushed out of his office quickly and asked his secretary if she saw Dmitry Anatolyevich going out of the Kremlin. His secretary gave an affirmative nod, and he went to the courtyard where officials usually wait for their government cars.

He sprints to the man, catching him before he fell into the floor filled with his blood and red spider lilies.

"I-I am sorry...bothering you...please...hide thi-" Dima rasped out as he slumped into his arms, passing out from exhaustion.

He slowly slid into the floor and gently examined Dima's face. Fury rose in his heart as he saw that one of the man's cheeks is red and almost bruised. He's barely breathing. He mustered up his most vicious glare and directed it at the security camera for he knows that Vladimir Vladimirovich is watching. He disconnected his gaze from the camera and started to rummage through Dima's coat pocket to look for his medicine; he hissed as he managed to wound his hand on the shards of glass in the prime minister's pocket.

 _Fate is playing with them.  
_ _It wants to unravel Dima's secrets_.

He calmed himself; it will not do Dima good if he panics. Vladislav retrieved the small vial that Dima gave from his pocket and opened it. He tipped the contents into the prime minister's slightly parted lips and softly massaged his throat to make the unconscious man swallow. Any moment now, he knows that Vladimir Vladimirovich will come down here and he has to take Dima away; he will not let the old coot lay a hand on the prime minister.

Some unknown deity has probably answered his prayers for an escape, as Dima's car finally arrived. The driver went out of the car and opened the door for him; he gently placed Dima inside before going in himself. When the driver went back in, he nodded, and the man enacted his silent command. The car sped away from the Kremlin, he glanced back and saw the president clutching a bloodstained red spider lily in his hands.

 _Oh, he forgot about that.  
_ _He should have ordered his secretary to clean it up_.  
 _But he knew its futile  
_ _The president has seen it all_

"Sir, we are being followed." Dima's driver said, and sure enough, as he peered into the rear-view mirror, he saw the typical vehicles that accompany the presidential limousine.

"We'll have to shake them off our trail. Go to Gorki first before we proceed to his flat." he clutched Dima closer to him. "I am sorry, Dima. Please bear with us."

One of the things that he's thankful for as a government official is how traffic parted like the Red Sea to let their cars pass, it also means that it cannot protect them from their pursuers. They reached Gorki earlier than expected, but he knows that those accursed cars are snooping outside the prime minister's residence. As every second passes by, he understands that he's putting Dima in more danger. He has to wait; he can't make the president know more than what is necessary.

When the coast is clear, they drove out of Gorki. His heart is beating wildly with worry as the prime minister hasn't woken up yet. Maybe he shouldn't have shaken the president's loyal guards off their trail so Dima can get the medical attention that he needs. It's only a matter of time before the president makes his next move. When they reached the flat, he hurriedly went out and lifted Dima once again into his arms. He steadily walked towards the door and started banging on it with his foot.

"Sveta! For fuck's sake, open the door!" he shouted, and he looks at Dima's pale face and panicking once more when the man started gasping for air.

"Didn't your parents teach you manners, Vladislav-" Svetlana trailed off as she saw the unconscious and gasping Dima on his arms.

She opened the door wider and let the presidential aide through who proceeded to go to the bedroom and gently placed the prime minister on the bed. He could hear Sveta shuffling on the adjacent bathroom; probably to fetch a basin and a washcloth to clean the blood from Dima. His phone started ringing; he pulled it out from his pocket and saw that his secretary is calling him. With a deep sigh, he answered the call.

"What is it?" he asks, and he hears his secretary gulping in fear at his harsh tone.

"Sir, the president is expecting you in his office. He says it's urgent."

His grip on his phone tightened as he watches Sveta fuss over Dima, she gave him an inquiring glance as she noticed the bruise on the prime minister's cheek before going back from cleaning the blood off from the man.

"Tell him that he can shove that urgency up his arse. I'll go to him once I am free."

"Sir?" he could hear her confusion. Surely, he didn't want her to say that to the president.

"You heard me, Natalya Ivanovna. Tell him those exact words." he snarled and ended the call. He returned his attention to Sveta, who is now placing an oxygen mask to the unconscious Dima.

"What happened, Slava?" she asks him softly as they both sat down.

He told her what he overheard from the silovikis, and he could see her hands which were resting on her lap balling into fists. As for the bruise on Dima's cheek, he did not know what transpired between the prime minister and the president so he cannot give her a retelling of how Dima obtained it. The man fainted right away, after all. Thus, Sveta has to wait for Dima to wake for he posses the answer that she seeks.

"He knows," he broke the bad news that he bears and she swore out loud.

"How?"

"Through the security feeds, the walls have eyes and ears, Sveta. Our secret is out in the open. It's only a matter of time before the man makes a move."

"It would have been fine if he has fallen for someone other than that cold bastard. The president took so much from him, but his heart never wavered. His heart is too foolish, isn't it, Vladislav Yuryevich?" Sveta quietly said and gave him a pointed look.

He's at a loss for words; people often praised him for his eloquence, but he doesn't know what to say. He can never muster up any great quips for that statement. The prime minister's heart isn't foolish; he has scolded him time and time again when he does say that it is. He knows that Dmitry Anatolyevich harbours a deep-seated hatred for himself, for falling to the machinations of his emotions.

He just stood up from his chair and headed straight to the door. He pauses for a bit, and without turning to look at Sveta, he says "Call me when he wakes."

"I will. Take care."

He opened the door and went out of the flat. Dima's driver is waiting for him; he silently went inside the car, and his trek back to the Kremlin commences.

_And now the final act begins._

By the time he arrived, everyone is leaving the Kremlin. Another workday has passed, and everyone is eager to go home. The deserted corridors give off a tranquil atmosphere; it is a magical place when political schemings do not saturate it. But he knew that one would not leave yet, the president tends to work through the late hours of the night, sometimes calling up bleary-eyed colleagues to hold up meetings at four in the morning. 

He went straight to the president's office; there's no point in prolonging it. However, he can only deter the man from seeking out the prime minister. He opened the door, and the sight that greets him is Vladimir Vladimirovich with his back turned from him, staring at his window in melancholic contemplation. 

"Vladimir Vladimirovich, you should know that you should never treat a doll so harshly," he said as he closes the door, the soft click of the lock ringing throughout the whole room.

The president turned to look at him, a scornful smile appearing on his lips. He could see the emotions flitting through that icy gaze: worry, anger and regret. The intensity of that gaze almost took his breath away, a few years ago he thought that the menacing look that the man is sporting now doesn't have the same effect that it had ten years ago due to cosmetic procedures that he has done, it looks comical. He now stands corrected he could feel that the man's glare can eviscerate him on where he stands. 

"Ah, Vladislav Yuryevich, please have a seat." the president gestured to a vacant chair, and he gingerly sat down. 

An emotional Vladimir Vladimirovich is more dangerous than he thought. The president sat down on the opposite chair and stared at him, expecting him to be the one to divulge everything. He smirked at the man; intimidation tactics won't work with him. 

"Well, get on with it. I assume that you seek a lot of answers to your questions?" he said testily to the president. 

"Let us cut to the chase then. Where is Dmitry Anatolyevich?" the president taps his fingers on the table as he waits for his answer. 

_The nerve of this bastard._

"Why should I tell you where he is? What are you to him, anyway? You're not the ex-wife nor his son. And besides, why are you asking me this? You know where he is, your loyal dogs followed us after all," Vladislav said cooly and that icy gaze flashed even more. It seems like he's adding more gasoline to the president's anger. 

"I received reports from Gorki that the prime minister rarely stays at his official residence. You are privy to the information regarding his whereabouts despite not being his family. Perhaps, you can share it with his friend." 

_How dare he!_

The president's statement struck a chord in the presidential aide. Vladislav scoffed "Friend? Don't make me laugh. You never treated him as a friend; you only saw him like a doll to be toyed with and discard it when it no longer has a purpose. And you don't spy on your friends." 

_He's courting his death, isn't he?_

The president ceased his tapping, and he could see his hand balling into a fist. He smirked in delight as he saw that Vladimir Vladimirovich is steadily losing control. He lounged on his chair, patiently waiting for the man's next words. 

"Dmitry Anatolyevich is the prime minister; his health is my utmost concern." 

"May I remind you that he's an outgoing prime minister. If that is your only concern, then I am here to tell you that he will be well enough for his sacking next week." 

Vladimir Vladimirovich slammed his hands on the desk, stood up and approached him; the president put both of his hand on the armrests of the chair that he's sitting in, caging him. The bastard stoops down to peer at his mirthful brown eyes. 

"Who gave you the right to speak on his behalf, Vladislav Yuryevich?" the president said coldly and his smirk widened even more. 

"Dmitry Anatolyevich Medvedev, he entrusted himself to me." 

It was too sudden; he did not even see that the president grabbed his necktie and hauled him up from his seat. Vladislav choked slightly and felt his eyes are tearing up from the hold. He grabbed the president's hand and tried to pry his necktie out of that grip. Hesitation gripped him as he saw possessiveness on that icy gaze. 

"I own him! I deserve to know where and how he is!" Vladimir Vladimirovich bellowed at his face. 

He angrily removed the man's hold on him and snapped. "Is that really how you feel towards him?! How rich. He's not a damn toy! If you hurt him again, let me remind you that this subordinate can wreck the image that he painstakingly built for you, in one fell swoop. Don't feel comfortable in that gilded chair of yours." 

The president slammed him into a wall, and the hand that he removed from his necktie is now grasping his throat tightly. He gave Vladimir Vladimirovich his darkest glare despite his watering eyes, and there was a faintly amused smile on the president's lips. 

"Such empty threats, Vladislav Yuryevich. You were never a part of the system that you created; you cannot topple me." the president malevolently said as he increased the pressure on his presidential aide's neck. 

"I-f, yo-u're go-ing to kil-l me, yo-u a-re put-ting hi-m in da-nger." he gasped out, and the president released him from his hold. His shaking legs forced him to crouched down as he took large deep breaths to fill his oxygen-deprived lungs with air. 

"Get out." Vladimir hissed, and Vladislav didn't hesitate to follow the command. He scrambled out of the office hastily. 

_He barely made it out alive._

"Sly old fox," he muttered as he removed the tracker on his necktie and smashed it with his foot. Indeed, being in the KGB is similar to riding a bike. One can never forget the notions of spy work. He didn't even notice that the president is concealing a tracker on his hand. He was a fool; he took to much joy gloating at Vladimir's despair that he fell victim to the man's tricks.

He did not even check himself before going to Dima's flat. Sveta gave him a call that Dima's finally awake and his mind was too preoccupied about the good news that he has forgotten that essential thing when facing a fellow intelligence officer. He only took notice when he removed his necktie from his neck and saw a small beeping device sticking on its silky fabric. He let out a defeated sigh. The prime minister entrusted him in keeping his secret, but his carelessness would blow things further.

Dima stared at him sadly and let out a short laugh "No one can escape his omnipotence."

He extended his hand to the prime minister and smiled, "Shall we make this a game of cat and mouse?"

Those dull blue eyes glinted briefly, and the prime minister took the presidential aide's hand.

"Certainly, Slava."

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think! <3  
> I realised I nearly made Dima die here with Hypoxia. @.@
> 
> Oh, also if you want to give me writing prompts am open for it! You can hit me up if you want to do collabs :D
> 
> I am sharing my curious cat profile if you want to ask me questions about this mess of a fic:  
> https://curiouscat.me/cupboardgoddess


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